


A Very Merry Mix-up

by SharkGirl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Voltron, Beach Volleyball, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Hallmark Movie, Hallmark Movie AU lol, Holiday Fic Exchange, Holidays, Humour, M/M, Meet the Family, Meeting the Parents, Misunderstandings, Mix-up, Overheard Confessions, Sharing a Bed, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, fake relationship (sort of)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 12:43:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16995216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkGirl/pseuds/SharkGirl
Summary: Shiroshouldhave been on cloud nine. But instead, he was stuck on a twenty-hour flight to Varadero – including his surprise overnight layover in Miami – to meet his boyfriend’s, nofiancé’sparents… all by himself. On the day before Christmas Eve.-Or, Shiro finds himself lost and without his luggage or phone. But by some twist of fate, he runs into his fiancé's younger brother at the airport. Little does he know that Marco Fernández is averycommon name.





	1. Meet the Fernándezes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeekMom13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekMom13/gifts).



> Hello all and happy holidays!!  
> This is my Secret Paladin Exchange gift for my good friend, GeekMom13!!  
> The actual date of the exchange is next Friday, but I might still be out of town and I didn't want to be late~
> 
> This fic is based on the Hallmark movie of the same title. Though, I took some liberties (I also can't remember a lot of the movie, tbh, haha, but I like the premise!)  
> Beta'd by the lovely Jes~♥  
> Please enjoy!!

Shiro was ecstatic. Overjoyed. Over the moon!

Or, at least, he should have been. And why? Because, after only a few weeks of searching, he’d found The One. And what’s more? They’d just celebrated their seven month anniversary and, in front of the entire restaurant, Marco stood up from his seat, got down on one knee, and asked if Shiro would marry him.

And, of course, Shiro had said yes!

So, why wasn’t Shiro walking on air and shouting from the rooftops? Because his dear Marco, loving as he was, had missed their flight. All because something had come up at work.

Shiro was no stranger to little hiccups like that. After all, running his late parents’ specialty clock repair shop was no walk in the park. Although, it did have a great view of the park. It was one of the last remaining Mom & Pop stores on the street. And Shiro had lost count of the number of times businesses had offered to buy him out.

A great location, but never busy. He’d need to work on a new ad campaign to drum up more business after the break, now that he thought about it.

But, back to the matter at hand. Shiro _should_ have been on cloud nine, but instead, he was stuck on a twenty-hour flight to Varadero – including his surprise overnight layover in Miami – to meet his boyfriend’s, no _fiancé’s_ parents… all by himself. On the day before Christmas Eve.

It wasn’t like Shiro couldn’t travel on his own. But it would have been a lot better if he’d been stuck in the aisle seat, but next to Marco. Or unable to rest in the airport hotel because he’d forgotten to pack his sleep aid in his carryon, but beside Marco. Or stuck without his luggage in the Juan Gualberto Gómez Airport, but with Marco.

And now, as he descended the stairs leading from the small passenger plane to the tarmac, the pilot’s words echoing in his head – _‘All luggage from connecting flights has been misplaced’_ – he wondered if this trip could possibly get any worse.

Then, as he was double-checking his phone for his soon-to-be in-laws’ address, someone bumped into him, causing his phone to fall into his overpriced – and overly sweet – cup of airport coffee. Which could have been avoided if they hadn’t run out of lids, but that was a whole other complaint.

“Oh, sh-!” Shiro cut himself off, pulling the cup away before some of the liquid spilled on him. Unfortunately, he was too late and there was already a stain on his shirt. His _only_ shirt he had until the airport found his luggage. The shirt he was going to have to meet his fiancé’s parents in.

His fiancé’s parents! Their address was in his phone!

Shiro made to reach for his drowned device, when the person who bumped into him spoke up, rushing to face him and nearly knocking the cup out of his hand.

“I’m so sorry!” the man blurted, his dark blue eyes wide. He grasped Shiro’s empty hand, his grip surprisingly strong for his slender frame. “Oh, man, it got on your shirt!” he continued to fuss. “That looks expensive. I’ll buy you a new one,” he went on.

Shiro opened his mouth to oppose, as the shirt had been a gift from Marco. Something he wouldn’t normally wear anyway, but the man, who Shiro figured was a few years younger than him, kept going.

“I’m really sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going and-”

“It’s fine,” Shiro finally spoke up. “Really, just-” He drew back and reached into his coffee cup, pulling out his waterlogged phone. “No harm done.” Good thing he’d gotten the extended warranty. Once he arrived at Marco’s childhood home, he’d just give his carrier and call and-

Wait. How was he going to get there without the address? Shiro pressed the home button and, given how everything had gone on this trip thus far, was unsurprised when the screen remained dark. Actually, to his phone’s credit, it did flicker once or twice before conking out completely.

“Aww, man,” his ‘assailant’ lamented. “I’ll replace your phone, too.” He lifted his hand and scrubbed at his face. “That’s what I get for taking that redeye…” He tipped forward and Shiro caught his shoulder.

“Hey,” Shiro said, getting the man’s attention. “It’s all right.” He sighed. “I haven’t had the best traveling day either.”

The other pulled his hand away and looked up at him sheepishly.

“Oh, not because of you,” Shiro clarified. “I just can’t sleep well on planes and the airport lost my luggage. And to top it off, my phone is now an overpriced paperweight and I have no idea how I’m supposed to get to my boyfriend’s parent’s house without their address.” He paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I mean fiancé.”

That was going to take some getting used to.

“Fiancé,” the other man repeated. “You’re engaged?” He shook his head. “I mean, _of course_ , you’re engaged.” He cleared his throat. “That was rude of me.”

“It’s fine,” Shiro gave a tired chuckle. “I mean, it’s a fairly recent development, so-” He sighed. “Anyway, par for the course, right?”

Shiro looked up and gave a weak smile. But the other man didn’t return it. Instead, he dug into his pocket and pulled out his own cellphone.

“I might need to write you an I.O.U. for the phone and shirt,” he began, “but you’re welcome to use mine. Call your fiancé and get the address.” He smiled then. “I’ll give you a ride, too, so you don’t have to waste any money on a taxi.”

Cautiously, Shiro reached for the phone. With so many bad things having already happened, it couldn’t possibly get any worse, right? What was the harm in accepting this man’s offer?

“All right.” Shiro took the phone and dialed Marco’s number. It rang six times before going to voicemail. He must have been in a meeting. “Hey, it’s Shiro,” he greeted after the beep. “Well, I’m in Varadero. And…the airport lost my luggage. Oh-” He glanced over at the man beside him “-and my phone is out of commission, so when you get some texts from a strange number, it’s just me. Please call me back when you get this.” He hung up and typed up a quick text, asking for Marco’s address and then handed the phone back to the other man. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he said as he pocketed the device. “I take it he’ll call back soon?”

“I hope so,” Shiro admitted. “The reason he didn’t come down was because of work, so I’m not sure if he’ll even check his phone until the end of the day.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “What a great way to start off our vacation. The future Mr. and Mr. Fernández, not even in the same country.”

“Fernández?” the man asked, those dark blue eyes wide again. Now that Shiro wasn’t as concerned about his stained shirt and the possibility of scalding himself, he realized his eyes were actually quite pretty. “Did you say Fernández?”

“Oh.” Shiro blinked, snapping out of it. Obviously, Shiro – a Japanese American – didn’t look like a Fernández. But, honestly, he was happy to take his fiancé’s name. He’d spent his whole life spelling out Shirogane for people. Never mind how often it was mispronounced. So, a more common name was a welcome change. “That’s Marco’s last name.”

“Marco?” His eyes widened further and his mouth dropped open. “Your fiancé’s name is Marco Fernández?”

“…Yes?” Shiro quirked a brow. He was thankful for the use of his phone and the potential ride, but his sleep-deprived savior was acting strange.

“That’s my brother!” he exclaimed, smiling wide, his eyes sparkling. “What are the odds?” He laughed. “I didn’t even know Marco had a boyfriend!”

“Oh, well…” Shiro ducked his head. Would Marco’s family be upset that he was engaged to a man? “We haven’t been dating all that long and-”

“He wanted to surprise us, right?” he snorted. “Typical Marco.” He shook his head and then offered Shiro his hand. “I’m Lance, by the way. Marco’s little brother.”

Shiro took his hand and gave it a shake. After everything that had gone wrong, it seemed like fate had led him to the right person. Or, rather, fate had caused the right person to bump into him. Quite literally. Mysterious ways and all that.

“Marco’s fiancé,” Lance repeated in awe. “Then again,” he amended, “I could call you by your _real_ name.” He laughed.

“Oh, right.” Shiro echoed his laughter. It was contagious. Or he was sleep deprived. Either way. “Takashi Shirogane,” he said. “But everyone calls me Shiro.”

“Takashi Fernández,” Lance tested it out. “Sounds perfect.” He beamed and Shiro found himself mirroring him. It _did_ sound good. “Well, _Shiro_ ,” he continued, “I guess we don’t need to wait for Marco to give you a call back. I know exactly where our parents live.”

“I suppose you do,” Shiro chuckled.

“Well, let’s give the address to the airport so they know where to send your luggage,” he suggested. “And then we’ll head home.”

Home. Home sounded nice. And the lack of sleep from the night before was starting to catch up with him, so, hoping to avoid any more trouble, Shiro happily agreed.

He let Lance handle all the talking regarding his checked baggage – especially since it was a heck of a lot easier to sort things out in Spanish and Shiro was rusty at best, inarticulate at worst – and once that was taken care of, he drowsily followed Lance to his car.

“So, Marco got a new number,” Lance noted as they walked through the garage.

“Hm?” Shiro blinked.

“Well, I wasn’t trying to spy or anything, but when you sent that text saying I was driving you home, I noticed that his name didn’t pop up,” he said. “Did he get a new phone or something?”

Shiro wracked his brain, exhausted as he was. He couldn’t remember Marco’s phone meeting a fate similar to his own. “It’s his work phone,” he offered, unable to think of another explanation. “I think he’s had it for a few months, anyway.”

“No big.” Lance waved him off. “I know he’s been super busy lately, so I’m not offended or anything.” He shook his head. “Mamá is going to let him hear it about forgetting to tell his family, though.”

Shiro tried to imagine what Marco’s mother looked like. And if she’d really be upset at her son for neglecting to message her his new number. The only things Marco had told Shiro about his family was that they only all got together for the holidays and that his father was unable to ingest gluten.

“Sorry for the mess,” Lance apologized as he unlocked the doors. They’d apparently made it to his car. “I sort of left in a hurry.”

“Oh?” Shiro inquired, sleepy, but curious as he made to get into the passenger seat. But he paused so Lance could sweep some unused napkins and an empty fast food bag onto the floor.

“Yeah,” he said, patting the now-clean seat. “Things were just settling down here when I got a call for a sale I couldn’t resist.” He sighed and put the car into drive. “Such is the life of a dealer of antiquities,” he said, finishing with a flourish before bringing his hand back to the steering wheel.

“You’re an antiques dealer?” Shiro questioned, perking up. Back at his parents’ shop, it was always the most fun to work on and restore the antique clocks.

“Oh, yeah,” Lance said almost sarcastically. “Living the high life,” he joked. “But actually, it’s pretty fun. My friend’s Hunk and Pidge do a lot of picking, but I usually only fly up for the estate sales,” he said.

“You don’t travel with them?” Shiro asked.

“I used to,” Lance explained, gripping the wheel. “But not since my abuela got sick.” He bit his lower lip. Then he turned to face Shiro with wide eyes. “Oh, I mean, she’s fine and everything, but she’s moved in with my parents and my mom had to leave her job to stay home with her and I’m the baby of the family, so it was easier for me to-”

Shiro laughed. Actually laughed, which felt good after the last hectic couple of days. “You don’t have to explain yourself,” he assured him. “Although, Marco didn’t mention that your grandmother had moved in.” Or much more about his family, for that matter. Heck, Shiro didn’t even know Marco had any siblings.

“Oh, well, it’s sort of a recent development over here, too,” Lance said. “Speaking of…” He smirked. “How did my big bro propose, anyway?”

Shiro flushed, his face growing warm. He was a pretty private person, so even the memory of everyone in the restaurant looking at them – at him – caused him to feel embarrassed. “Well,” he began, “he got us reservations at this really expensive restaurant. Too expensive,” he added quickly, “and right in the middle of our conversation about his new business deal, he dropped down on one knee and popped the question.”

Lance snorted.

“What?” Shiro asked, his face finally cooling.

“I guess that’s kind of sweet,” he said. “Not romantic, though.”

Shiro frowned. “Not romantic?”

“I mean, expensive restaurants are nice and all, but it would have been nicer, I don’t know, taking a walk through the park or going to your favorite little hole in the wall place and asking you there.” He smiled, eyes on the road. “Sweeping you off your feet.”

Shiro wasn’t sure how to respond. Lance’s ideas for a proposal were nice. Actually, they were more how Shiro envisioned himself proposing to someone. But Marco’s wasn’t bad, embarrassing as it was. It was romantic in his own way.

“I don’t mean to insult Marco,” Lance went on, taking Shiro’s silence as his being offended. “But I expected more from him,” he said with a chuckle. “Anyway, I’m sure my big city bro – who didn’t bother to text his family his new cell phone number – must have gotten you a gorgeous ring, am I right?” His gaze shifted to Shiro and he smirked.

“Oh.” Shiro unconsciously glanced down at the third finger of his left hand, adorned with a sleek, black titanium ring. It was a bit fancy for Shiro’s taste, but it definitely fit Marco’s style.

“Let’s see it,” Lance encouraged and Shiro held his hand up. He wasn’t used to showing it off – probably never would be – but he did his best. Though, when Lance saw it, he didn’t look impressed. Which was odd, because Marco had gone on about how trendy it was and how he’d given the jeweler an extra tip to ensure he got it over the other patrons who’d expressed an interest.

“What is it?” Shiro asked, drawing his hand back self-consciously.

“Oh, nothing,” Lance said, fixing his expression. “Sorry, I just…didn’t pin Marco for a flashy ring sort of guy.” He slapped his forehead. “Gosh, I’ve been so rude.” He faced Shiro again. “Please blame my lack of sleep. I don’t normally have verbal diarrhea.” He winced. “Like that.”

Shiro huffed out a nervous laugh, spinning his ring on his finger with his thumb. “It’s okay. I feel you.” He stifled a yawn. “Actually, I’m more of an old-fashioned guy, myself.” He wet his lips. “Even though I’ve lived in the city my whole life, I prefer,” he paused, trying to find the word.

“I think I know what you mean,” Lance helped him. “Our house is near the beach, but it’s not exactly a Beach House, if you get me.” He smiled again and Shiro easily returned it. If the rest of Marco’s family was as easy to talk to as Lance, maybe going it alone until his fiancé was able to join him wouldn’t be too bad.

But just as that thought crossed his mind, there came a jarring clank, followed by a hiss and a sputter. Lance quickly navigated off of the main road and onto the shoulder as the car gave one last rotation of its wheels.

Perhaps Shiro had spoken too soon.

“Not again…” Lance lamented as he put the car into park and got out, leaving his door open. The breeze blowing through cooled the sweat beginning to bead on Shiro’s forehead. It was nearly midday and the weather was a balmy almost seventy degrees – much warmer than back home.

Lance lifted the hood and pulled a face. And Shiro, unsure of what else to do, got out of the car to see if he could help.

“Luis is going to kill me…” Lance dragged a hand down his face. “He told me to bring her in before I left.”

“Her?” Shiro looked away from the engine and raised his brows.

“Blue,” Lance clarified, gesturing toward the car. “She’s a vintage classic!” he went on. “I should have taken better care of her. Some antique lover I am…”

Shiro swallowed before giving Lance’s shoulder an awkward pat. “I’m sure you did your best.”

Lance lifted his head and blinked up at him. Then he smiled. “I appreciate you trying to cheer me up,” he said and then pulled out his phone. “But it looks like we’re going to need a tow.” He sighed. “And guess who just cancelled their roadside assistance to save a couple of bucks?”

At some point, bad things had to stop happening. There had to be some way to end his losing streak – and, subsequently, Lance’s – But Shiro just reached into his pocket for his wallet. “I can pay for it-”

“No way!”  Lance argued, holding a hand out, his phone trapped between his ear and shoulder. “I’m just going to have to suck it up and call-” He paused when the person on the other end of the line picked up. “Hey. Yeah, it’s me.” He grimaced. “I know…” He pulled the phone away and mouthed an apology before walking off a bit to finish his conversation with who Shiro could only assume was the aforementioned Luis.

Shiro chewed on his lip. He’d worked on enough clocks to put them together blindfolded, but he knew absolutely nothing about cars. Growing up in the city, he’d relied on public transportation his entire life.

“Okay,” Lance said when he walked back, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. “Luis is already at our parents’, so it’ll be a little while before he can get his truck.”

Shiro nodded and then furrowed his brow. “Your parents’?”

“Yeah,” Lance said, looking equally as confused. Then it seemed to dawn on him. “Don’t tell me Marco never told you about our big brother.”

Another brother. Huh. It seemed like Marco had kept a lot of his private life, well…private.

“I’m afraid he never mentioned his siblings,” Shiro replied, ducking his head sheepishly. It was a little embarrassing to admit he knew next to nothing about his fiancé’s family.

“Marco, Marco, Marco…” Lance shook his head. “I know his new job has been keeping him busy, but wow.” He pushed his hair back, revealing a tiny widow’s peak where his brown hair met tan skin. It was cute and something that must not have necessarily run in the family, because Marco definitely didn’t have one. “Oh well,” Lance went on. “At least we broke down near a convenience store.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Want something to drink? My treat.”

Well, Shiro couldn’t say no to that. Not after everything that had happened. So, he pulled out his wallet and grabbed a few bucks. “All right,” he said. “But _I’m_ buying.”

 

The store itself was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. But even so, it was packed with everything imaginable, from instant meals and sodas to prepared foods and coffee. Not to mention the typical impulse buy items and a rack of souvenir t-shirts that stood next to a carousel of sunglasses.

“This is perfect!” Lance said from beside him, darting forward. He grabbed what was easily the largest shirt they had – though it still looked like a child’s size – and held it up against Shiro’s front. And until that moment, Shiro had nearly forgotten about the giant coffee stain on his own shirt. “We’re _so_ getting you this!” Lance grinned excitedly.

Shiro looked down at the shirt. It was all white, made of a cheap, thin material, and had a cartoon map of the country on it with the words _‘I_ _♥_ _Cuba’_ written in brightly colored bubble letters.

“Um-”

“Listen, I know I owe you a shirt, so there’s no getting out of this one,” Lance said, yanking the clothing away and heading toward the check-out. “And pick out whatever drink you want. _On me_ ,” he stressed before setting his purchase down on the counter and chatting with the girl behind it.

Shiro sighed, but hadn’t the energy to argue. He bypassed the coffee – he wasn’t about to ruin another shirt – and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerated case. He’d barely brought it up to the front before Lance snatched it from his hands and replaced it with the shirt, now off of the hanger and free of its tags.

“She said you can change in the bathroom in the back,” Lance instructed, clearly not about to take ‘no’ for an answer. So, Shiro didn’t put up a fight and made his way to the bathroom.

Once inside, he unbuttoned his dress shirt and wrinkled his nose at the smell of stale coffee that wafted his way. He set the soiled garment on the sink and reached for his new attire. But when he pulled the shirt over his head, he immediately knew it was not going to fit. Well, not in a way that wouldn’t draw attention.

But considering it was his only option, Shiro tugged it the rest of the way down and looked at himself in the mirror with a sigh. The white material was pulled so tight against his chest, it was semitransparent. And the little cartoon characters on each of the map’s landmarks seemed to mock him with their big, judgmental eyes.

For a moment, Shiro considered putting his stained dress shirt back on, but before he could talk himself into it, Lance was knocking on the door. “Hey, sorry to rush you, but Luis is pulling up,” he said. “Just in case you’re wondering where I disappeared to,” he added with a chuckle.

“Oh, I’m coming out,” Shiro said, balling up his old shirt and unlocking the door.

If he was self-conscious before, he was downright embarrassed now. Lance was starting at him – staring! – specifically at his chest.

“I know it looks bad…” Shiro took half a step back into the bathroom, ready to change at a moment’s notice.

“What?” Lance blinked, his gaze shifting up to Shiro’s face. Then his cheeks tinted, nowhere near as bright as Shiro’s must have been, but light pink. “Oh, no. It-” He coughed into his hand. “Looks great!”

Lance was lying to spare his feelings. Of that, Shiro was sure. But he accepted the compliment with a nod and finally walked out, letting the door close behind him. “You said Luis was here?” he questioned, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, right!” Lance gave what must have been his signature smile. It was his default, Shiro realized. “I just saw his truck taking the exit, so he’s probably almost to Blue by now.” He opened the plastic bag in his hand and fished out Shiro’s bottle of water. “Let’s go.”

The cool water felt good and proved a fine distraction from Shiro’s insecurity over the ridiculously tight t-shirt. If only his shoulders weren’t so broad, it might have fit a bit better.

Lance ran ahead just as a dark blue tow truck pulled to a stop next to the car. “Hey, Luis! Thanks again, bro. I’m really sorry about all…” He trailed off as the door opened and a young woman stepped out, hopping off of the metal step and landing gracefully on the soft clay. “Veronica.”

“Lance,” she greeted, narrowing her eyes behind her sleek, wire-rimmed lenses. Then she smiled wide, looking quite a bit like Lance. “Got yourself into trouble, huh, baby bro?” She reached forward and mussed his hair, but Lance reared back.

“I thought Luis was coming,” he said as he tried to restyle his locks.

“He was, but he was in the middle of getting lunch for the kids,” she explained. “Plus, I was closer.” She adjusted her glasses and then looked past Lance and at Shiro. Then she grinned, almost catlike, and side eyed Lance. “And who might _this_ be?”

“Lay off, V,” Lance said. “He’s Marco’s.”

Shiro’s face flushed hotly and, as if realizing what he’d said, Lance’s turned bright red.

“Fiancé,” he finished, sputtering. “This is Marco’s fiancé, Takashi Shirogane.”

Shiro stepped forward, offering his hand to Veronica. “Shiro’s fine.”

“That he is,” Veronica said, clearly to Lance, but Shiro had overheard. “Well,” she continued, turning her attention back on Shiro, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Marco’s twin sister, Veronica.”

Wait. Marco was a twin? How had that never come up before?

“Funny…” she hummed, cocking her head to the side. “Marco never mentioned having a fiancé.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Lance filled her in. “He was going to come down with Shiro, but got caught up with some work and won’t be down until later.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “That new job of his…” But instead of finishing, she walked over to the car and took a look under the hood. “Oh, Lance…”

“I know, already…” he moaned.

“Preventative maintenance, baby bro.” She clicked her tongue. “Well, Luis didn’t say what was wrong, so I didn’t bring anything.” She put her hands on her hips. “We’ll just tow you home and figure it out after the break.”

“Okay.” Lance ducked his head, looking rather ashamed. And Shiro found himself longing to comfort the other man, but unsure if that was appropriate. “C’mon, Shiro,” Lance interrupted his thoughts. “V will get us hooked up, so we can go ahead and sit in the cab.” He gestured toward the truck.

“Oh.” Shiro turned toward Veronica, feeling useless. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Veronica smiled. Not nearly as catlike as before, but still a bit mischievously. “I think I can handle it,” she promised. “Now go keep Lance company before he eats that whole bag of snacks,” she instructed. “Mamá will kill him if he comes home full of that junk, considering the amount she’s been cooking.”

“My blood sugar was low!” Lance called from inside the truck, his voice partially muffled by the candy bar he had stuffed in his mouth.

“I’m not the one you have to convince,” she replied and then faced Shiro again. “Don’t eat too much,” she warned. “Mamá is going to want to grill you over lunch. And what better way to avoid answering questions than with a mouth full of food.” She winked and then got to work hooking Blue up.

Shiro climbed up into the cab and sat beside Lance. He wet his lips and then swallowed. “Is your mother really going to grill me?” he asked.

Lance snorted before downing half his bottle of lemonade. “She’ll just want to know about her newest son, that’s all.” He chuckled. “Luis and Lisa got married years ago and the twins are almost seven, so it’s been a while since anyone’s brought anyone home.”

“That’s not true,” Veronica said as she climbed into the driver’s seat. “Rachel brought her boyfriend last year,” she said, putting the truck into drive. “And it was only two years ago that She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to stay with us.”

Shiro raised his brows. “Who?”

“Lance’s ex-fiancé-”

“V!” Lance shouted, elbowing her hard in the ribs – probably not the safest thing to do while driving, but understandable. “Could you not?”

“Listen, Shiro’s going to be family,” Veronica argued. “Besides, don’t you think he’ll be curious as to who that random girl is in that year’s family Christmas photo?”

Lance sighed, but didn’t say anything else.

“Do you want to tell him? Or should I?” Veronica pressed.

Shiro didn’t want to get involved with family matters, but Lance seemed uncomfortable, so he spoke up. “You don’t have to-”

“ _It’s fine_ ,” Lance said, clearly annoyed. But then he changed his tone. “It’s fine.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll skip the details, but things didn’t work out. That’s all.”

They stopped suddenly and Shiro braced himself on the dash.

“Need gas,” Veronica explained, before opening the door and hopping out, leaving Lance and Shiro alone once more.

“Hey,” Shiro began, reaching a hand out and letting it hover just above Lance’s shoulder. “It’s fine if you don’t want-”

“Her name was Nyma and she travelled with Hunk, Pidge, and me for a little bit,” Lance said. “We really hit it off and I fell head over heels,” he went on. “I definitely moved way too fast. Inviting her home for Christmas… And proposing in front of my entire family…” He smoothed his hair back again. “ _Of course_ she wasn’t going to say ‘no’ in front of them.”

Shiro nodded, but let Lance finish.

“I should have gone with that romantic walk alone, huh?” Lance gave a sad little chuckle. “Anyway, turned out she’d just been on a break with her boyfriend when she met me. Never intended for it to be anything serious.” He bit his lip. “I was only seeing what I wanted to, ya know?”

Again, Shiro bobbed his head.

“But I’m more embarrassed than heartbroken,” he said. “Anyway, she went back to picking with Rolo and I haven’t heard from them since.” He toyed with the bottle of lemonade in his lap. “I think Pidge and Hunk still see them at sites, but they keep it to themselves.”

If Shiro had longed to comfort Lance before, he ached to do so now.

“But that’s in the past.” The cheery Lance was back. “I got over it and if _someone_ hadn’t brought it up,” he turned just as Veronica was getting back into the truck, “I wouldn’t have even thought about it.”

“Hey,” Veronica began, suddenly serious. “I’m sorry, Lance. That wasn’t very sisterly of me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I know you just flew in last night,” he told her. “We’re all tired and hungry.” He pulled another candy bar out of the bag. “Let’s promise not to say anything else until we’ve eaten.”

Veronica took the offered bar and laughed. “Sounds good.”

Then they both turned toward Shiro, each with a King Size chocolate in hand. “Don’t tell Mamá.”

Shiro blinked and then snickered. “You got it.”

 

Lance was right about their family’s house on the beach not being a Beach House. It wasn’t at all how Marco had described. But Shiro loved the look of it. It was a homey two story, painted a buttery yellow that was chipped with age or from the salty sea wind. The blue door was weathered and there were hurricane shutters above the windows – something Lance had explained when Shiro asked – And just along the roof were strings of multi-colored lights.

Veronica parked the tow truck and lowered Blue to the street. Lance took his bags out of the trunk and Shiro grabbed his carryon before following the siblings up the walk.

In just the short trip from the airport to Marco’s childhood home, Shiro had learned so much! Not only did Marco have a little brother, but he also had an older brother and two sisters, one of which was his twin.

Though, he felt bad. Even if he had his luggage, there were only two small gifts inside for Marco’s parents. But how was he supposed to know?

Shiro wanted to ask why his fiancé had never mentioned them. After all, Shiro had been upfront about being an only child. He’d even told Marco about his childhood friend Keith – keyword ‘told,’ because Marco was always so busy, he didn’t have time for get-togethers that weren’t dates, so there was never a chance to formally introduce him.

“Thank God!” someone shouted, catching Shiro’s attention. “First your flight is delayed and then Luis tells me you crashed the car!” A short woman came running forward and wrapped her arms around Lance. “Please tell me you’re okay, Monkey.”

“I’m fine, Mamá.” Lance tried to pull away, but the woman’s soft arms were stronger than they appeared. “And I didn’t crash the car. We just broke down and-”

“All because you didn’t take it to Luis’s shop before you left,” she scolded him. “But at least Veronica was able to come pick you up.” She turned toward her daughter. “Even if she sneaked out this morning without eating breakfast.”

“Mamá!” Veronica complained. “You know I had business in town-”

“After arriving in the middle of the night?” She placed a hand over her chest. “They could have waited for you to get some rest first.”

Shiro stood there awkwardly, unsure what to do with himself. He felt like he was interrupting just by standing there.

“Well, you’re here now,” their mother continued. “And I see you brought a friend.”

Shiro felt three sets of eyes on him and he looked up to give what quite possibly deserved the Oscar for Most Awkward Wave.

“This is Takashi Shirogane,” Lance introduced him. “He’s Marco’s fiancé.”

Once the word had left Lance’s mouth, his mother’s eyes lit up brighter than the Christmas lights strung up just above her head.

“Marco’s fiancé?” she echoed and then ran forward, enveloping Shiro in a bone-crushing hug. He wheezed, certain this woman who barely came up to his chest would be able to lift him up, should she choose. “Welcome to the family, Takashi.”

“He goes by Shiro, Mamá,” Lance said for him.

“Welcome to the family, Shiro,” she corrected. “My Marco has told me nothing about you.” She looked upset, but then she smiled. “But my son has chosen a fine man, hasn’t he?”

Shiro blushed.

“Oh, where are my manners?” she continued. “I’m Delma, but you’re welcome to call me Mamá, if you’d like.” She wrapped her arms around one of his. “Please come in!”

And then, in a flurry of motion, Shiro found himself inside the Fernández’s home, seated at the kitchen table, and with a full plate of food in front of him.

“You must be starving. It’s nearly lunch!” Delma said as she fixed two more plates and set them in front of Veronica and Lance. “Traveling is so taxing on the body,” she explained. “You have to refuel.”

Shiro would have argued that he was fine, but save for coffee and that bottle of water, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d ingested something. And so, after his stomach gave a grumble loud enough to be heard from outside, he dug in.

And maybe it was because he was starving, but the meat Delma had served was quite possibly one of the best things Shiro had ever eaten in his entire life.

“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying my ropa vieja, Shiro,” she said, patting him on the back. “I knew my Marco had picked a good one.”

Again, Shiro’s face flushed, but he covered it up by taking another huge bite.

“I am a little upset that no one called me to tell me they were on their way,” she went on, eyeing both Veronica and Lance. “I was out of my mind with worry.”

It was then that Shiro thought of his own phone, dark and useless in his pocket. It had been a couple of hours, but he wondered if it was still possible to save it. And, as he swallowed a mouthful of rice, he remembered a trick Keith had used when he’d crashed his bike into the retention pond a few years prior.

“Um,” Shiro began, catching the others’ attention and – by the looks of it – stopping another scolding before it began. “I dropped my phone into my coffee earlier. Do you think I could keep it in a bag of rice for a bit to see if it’s salvageable?” he asked and then quickly added. “If you have any extra, I mean.”

Veronica and Lance exchanged glances and snorted. “Yeah, I think Mamá might have some you can use.”

And that, Shiro realized later, was an extreme understatement. Growing up Japanese-American, there was always rice in his house. But it seemed the Fernándezes bought it by the pallet. “Had to feed five growing children,” Delma explained at Shiro’s wide-eyed stare.

She took his phone and dropped it into a plastic bag filled with uncooked rice. “Only time will tell,” she said as he began leading him out of the pantry. But just as they were about to walk out, Shiro noticed something moving in his periphery.

He turned, but didn’t see anything. So, chalking it up to exhaustion, Shiro began following after Delma once more. But even without seeing anything, he still felt eyes on him and, when he reached the door, he stopped and spun around, hoping to catch whatever creature was lurking before it could hide away again. And it worked. He was now face to face with…

“A little girl?” Shiro blinked.

The child, who couldn’t have been more than six or seven, stared back and him and then, after a beat, opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Delma came running back from the kitchen, Lance and Veronica in tow. “Good heavens! What’s the matter, Nadia?”

“I startled her,” Shiro admitted, moving to the side to let the others pass.

“I’m sorry,” the little girl – Nadia – said quickly. “Sylvio and me were playing hide and seek and I found the best place and then Mima came in with Tío Alto and I got scared and-” She bit her lip, putting her hands behind her back and looking up shyly. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.” Delma got down onto her knees and hugged her. “Mima didn’t know you were in here. But I’m not mad.”

“Nadia!” someone else shouted, getting their attention. A young boy, around Nadia’s age, burst into the pantry. He came to a screeching halt, gaze shifting from Shiro to Nadia’s crying face before he held up his fists. “What did you do to my baby sister?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Nadia said, pulling away from Delma and putting her hands on her hips. “And I’m not your baby sister.”

“Yes, you are! I’m three minutes older!” he argued, crossing his arms over his chest. “And it’s my duty as your big brother to protect you.” He faced Shiro again, a determined look on his little face. “Especially from big mean men in tiny shirts.”

Shiro’s face turned bright red. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. And it was just as well because both Veronica and Lance erupted in gales of laughter, clutching their sides and doubling over.

“Knock it off, you two,” Delma ordered, standing back up. “Marco won’t like you being rude to his prometido.”

Lance was the first to recover. He wiped a stray tear from his eyes and shot Shiro an apologetic glance before getting down onto his knees in front of the kids. “Your mima is right,” he said, putting a hand on each other their shoulders. “But let me formally introduce you.” He moved to stand behind them. “Nadia, Sylvio. This is Tío Marco’s fiancé, Shiro.”

Just like their grandmother’s, the children’s eyes widened almost comically. They ran forward, stopping at Shiro’s feet and staring up at him.

“Tío Shiro!” they cheered. Then Sylvio stepped back, turning toward his sister. “Okay, let’s play again. This time, I’ll hide.”

“Wait a minute,” Delma interrupted just as they were about to run off. “I thought the two of you were supposed to be taking a nap.”

“ _Mima_ ,” Sylvio whined, drawing out the second syllable. “We’re six and a half! Too old for naps.”

“Oh?” Veronica asked, quirking a brow. “And just where are your parents then?”

Nadia ducked her head and Sylvio was suddenly very interested in his bare feet. “Taking a nap?”

“They must be exhausted, dealing with you two,” Lance teased, earning a tongue stuck out in his direction, compliments of Sylvio. “But let’s let them rest,” he continued. “Tía Veronica and Tío Lance will play with you. How’s that sound?”

“Yay!” Nadia and Sylvio shouted. “Let’s play tag! Tío Lance is it!” And then both children were gone, sprinting through the door and back into the kitchen.

“No running in the house!” Delma called after them. “And put your shoes on if you’re going outside!”

“I’ve got it,” Veronica said with a laugh. “Give them a head start, Tío Lance,” she added before running off after the kids.

It was noticeably quiet in the pantry after that. And finally, after everything, Shiro spoke. “So, twins run in the family, huh?” he asked.

“On our side and Lisa’s side, poor dear,” Delma answered. “So, none of us were surprised, really.” Then she went on. “Though, Veronica tells me it’s only the mother’s side that matters for twins.” She sighed. “Probably why she hasn’t tried to have children yet.” But then her mood changed. “Oh, but Marco is getting married!” She placed a hand over her heart and beamed at Shiro. “Do you plan on using a surrogate or adopting?”

“ _Mam_ _á_ ,” Lance stopped what surely would have been more invasive questions. “They only just got engaged.”

“Oh, my goodness. You’re right!” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Shiro. That was rude of me.” She took his hand in hers. “I’ve just got a bit of baby fever since Rachel-”

“Did I hear my name?” Yet another member of the Fernández family made her way into the pantry. “So, are we just hanging out in here, or…?”

“Hey, Rach,” Lance greeted, pulling her into a hug. “Did you just get in?”

“Yeah,” she answered as she drew back. “Want to help me get my stuff?”

Lance raised his brows. “The beau not being very helpful?” he asked.

“Ugh, don’t bring him up,” she growled, pulling her long hair up into a messy bun. “We’re on a break right now…”

“Ah, well, I’d love to help you, but I’m supposed to be playing tag with the kids…” Lance pursed his lips.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Rachel said. “Bring my luggage upstairs and I’ll be ‘it’ in your place.”

Lance furrowed his brow. “Should you really be running around,” he lowered his voice. “ _In your condition_?”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “ _What_ condition?”

“Oh, I guess I got confused when Mamá mentioned baby fever-”

Rachel’s eyes went wide. “Mamá!” she screeched. “I said we were _thinking_ about it!”

“I can’t help how I understood it, mi amada,” Delma said with a shrug.

“Anyway…” Lance reached out and grabbed Shiro’s wrist, pulling him toward the doorway. “We’ll go get your luggage and I’ll show Shiro to his room.”

Delma stopped midsentence and peeked around her daughter. “Thank you, Monkey.” Then she went right back to defending herself.

Shiro was happy to be away from the drama, though he did feel bad not introducing himself to Lance’s – _Marco’s_ other sister.

“Don’t worry,” Lance said, seeming to read his mind. “I’ll give you a proper introduction when she recovers from her trip.” He chuckled. “Rachel can get cranky on long flights.”

“Ah.” Shiro nodded. “Well, I’m happy to help you with her luggage.”

“Good,” Lance snorted as they came to a huge pile of suitcases at the bottom of the stairs. “Cuz I’m going to need it.”

Three trips to Rachel and Veronica’s shared childhood room later and Shiro was certain he’d gotten in his cardio for the day. Strength training, too.

“She does not pack light, my sister,” Lance said after closing the door. “But now we can sneak off to our room for a little bit to relax.”

“Our room?” the words were out of Shiro’s mouth before he could stop them, his ears growing hot.

“Oh, Marco’s and mine,” Lance answered. If he was embarrassed by his earlier phrasing, he didn’t show it. “But I guess the three of us will be sharing, since Veronica is with Rachel, and Luis, Lisa, and the kids are in his old room.”

Hmm. Full house.

“Mamá and Pop are downstairs across the hall from Abuela. And my abuelo will stay with her when he gets here.” Lance paused, probably noticing how Shiro’s eyes had started to glaze over as he fought to process all of the new information. “I’ll give you a tour later,” he promised. “Unless you’d prefer to wait for Marco.”

At the mention of his fiancé, Shiro snapped out of it. “Ah, yeah. A tour would be fine,” he said. “But do you mind if I use your phone again to try and get ahold of Marco?”

“No problem!” Lance said. “But let’s go to the room first,” he added, peering over the banister just as a cacophony erupted from downstairs. The game of tag must have ended. “I fear it’s the only place you’ll get any peace,” he snickered.

“Good call,” Shiro agreed just as something loud and very breakable crashed to the ground in the distance. “Lead the way.”

 

Lance and Marco’s room was across from the girls’ and mirrored it almost exactly. The only difference being the larger window that faced the ocean, which gave a beautiful view of the waves crashing against the sand below.

“We played the most epic game of rock, paper, scissors to get this room,” Lance said from just behind him. “V and Rach were so mad,” he added with a laugh. “Anyway, you’ll have to excuse the mess.” He gestured toward the two beds, both of which were neatly made, but one was completely covered with a variety of antiques. “I’ve been sleeping and working out of here since I moved back home,” he explained. “I promise to clear those off before bed tonight.”

But Shiro didn’t mind. He was too busy being drawn to the most beautiful antique clock he’d ever seen. Its porcelain figures were so detailed and delicate that he was afraid to touch it. “Are these things you’re planning to sell?” he asked Lance.

“Oh.” The other stopped unpacking his own suitcase and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s actually more of a personal collection,” he said, cheeks pink. “Sometimes I see something and I just…can’t let it go.” He looked down, a fond little smile curving his lips.

Shiro might have liked that expression even more than Lance’s big, beaming, ear-to-ear grins. But he shook the thought, instead choosing to ask about the clock. “This is beautiful,” he said. “Where did you find it?”

“Oh, that?” Lance walked over. “Found that gorgeous piece at an estate sale in the Midwest,” he explained. “Pidge likes to take the credit, but I totally saw it first.” He chuckled. “And I fell completely in love.”

Shiro blushed again, his gaze darting from Lance’s face and back to the clock. It was amazing to look at, with its colorful flowers and chubby little cherubs. “It’s a Dresden, right?” Shiro asked. “Turn of the century?”

“Eighteen ninety-three,” Lance said. “And good eye.” He regarded Shiro. “Should I be worried about some new competition?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Shiro shook his head. “The store I own, the one I inherited from my parents, it’s a clock repair shop and I’m kind of a geek, you might say.”

“Is that right?” Lance asked, cocking his head to the side. “Well, I’d be honored if you’d take a look at her.” He reached for the clock and carefully picked it up. “She’s a real beaut, but I’m afraid the mechanics are rusted or something.” He shrugged, setting it back onto the mattress. “Hasn’t worked since I got her.”

Inside, Shiro was giddy. But he kept his cool. “Well, if you’re willing to trust me…I’d be happy to take a look.”

“Great,” Lance said and then gasped. “Oh!” He reached into his pocket. “I almost forgot to give you my phone to call Marco.”

Shiro blinked. He’d nearly forgotten as well. He should have been ashamed of himself for not checking in, but he could have talked with Lance about that clock all day.

“Here.” Lance handed him the phone. “I’ll give you some privacy.” And, just like that, he was gone, leaving Shiro alone for the first time since he’d been lost in the airport.

There were no new messages from Marco. But it wasn’t unlike his fiancé to go an entire day without checking his phone. Especially if he was busy at work. So, he quickly typed up a message.

_‘Hey, Marco. It’s Shiro. My phone is still dead, so I’m borrowing Lance’s again. I made it to your house. Your family has been very welcoming and kind. Let me know when you’ll be joining us.’_

Shiro’s finger hovered over the ‘L.’ He and Marco had only said they loved each other in person. And only a handful of times. So, forgoing that sentiment, he sent the text.

He set the phone down on Lance’s nightstand and walked back over to the window. The kids were back outside again, running in the sand while Veronica and Rachel chased them. He smiled at the scene. Lance’s family was so nice.

Marco’s.

 _Marco’s_ family was so nice.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Lance said as he walked back into the room. “But as awesome as it looks on you, I thought you might want to change out of that c-store t-shirt.” He snickered, holding up a large fútbol jersey. “It’s one of Luis’s from college, but I think it might fit you.” He bit his lower lip. “He’s put on a few since then…”

Shiro raised his brows, but took the jersey from him, choosing not to comment. “Thank you.”

“You might be the only person taller than him, actually.” Lance sat down on his bed. “No idea where he got it.” He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “Lucky…”

Shiro didn’t think Lance was particularly short. But what came out of his mouth instead was, “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”

Lance snapped his head up, pink dusting his cheeks. And Shiro was sure he was as red as a tomato. “Th-Thank you,” Lance said, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I’ll, um, let you change then.” He stood up, putting his hands into his pockets. “Just come downstairs whenever you’re ready. Or you could nap, if you want.”

“Lance,” Shiro called out before he reached the door. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, no.” Lance waved his hands in front of him. “I just need to help out with the twins.” He wet his lips. “And, I’m not uncomfortable with you at all.” He walked backwards and nearly ran into the doorframe. “Take your time.” His blush deepened. “See you downstairs.” And then he was gone.

Shiro sighed. He hadn’t meant to fluster Lance. But what he said was true. He liked Lance. A lot.

Which was good, since they were going to be family soon, right?

He shook his head and peeled off the too-small souvenir shirt, tossing it into the hamper. Then he pulled on the burrowed shirt, checking himself in the long mirror affixed to the closet door. It was still a little tight in the shoulders – the family’s surname on the back stretched a bit – but it fit much better than the other one. And it smelled nice. Familiar.

Shiro realized it must have been whatever fabric softener the Fernándezes used. He lifted the front of the shirt to his nose and took a deep inhale.

It smelled like Lance.

 

When Shiro made his way downstairs, everyone was already inside, packed into the living room. Some were seated on the couch, while others leaned against the back or sat on the floor. They were all chatting, but stopped when Shiro made his entrance.

“So, this is Marco’s fiancé we’ve heard so much about,” a large man said. And by process of elimination, Shiro figured he was Lance’s oldest brother, Luis. “Hey,” he added with a grin. “Nice shirt.”

Shiro cleared his throat. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“You can keep it,” Luis said, waving his hand in dismissal. “I’m never squeezing back into that thing, anyway.” He laughed and the woman beside him joined in.

“Oh, darling, I’m going to miss it,” she said. “But it does suit the future Mr. Fernández very well.” She winked and then made her way over. “I’m Lisa,” she introduced. “And as I’m sure you’ve gathered, that’s my husband, Luis.”

“And you’ve already met our little troublemakers,” Luis said, mussing the twins’ hair and laughing raucously when they pulled away and hastily tried to fix it.

Suddenly, another woman cut in, stepping just in front of Lisa. “And I’m Rachel,” she said. “Lance said you helped him with my bags.” She batted her eyelashes. “If there’s anything I can do to repay you, don’t hesitate to ask.” She flashed a very Lance-like smile and then walked back over to the couch, perching herself on the arm and crossing her long legs daintily.

All eyes were on him and Shiro wasn’t entirely sure what to say or do.

“Pop should be back soon,” Lance came to his rescue. “Wasn’t he picking Abuelo up from the airport on the way home?”

“That’s right!” Delma said, shooting up. “I’d better get started on dinner.” She turned, “Lisa, Rachel, Lance. Come help me.” The three did as she said, following her into the kitchen and leaving Shiro in the company of Luis, Veronica, and the twins.

“Well, I’d better wake Abuelita up from her nap,” Luis said before giving a stretch. “She’ll never let me hear the end of it if she doesn’t get a chance to fix herself up before Abuelo arrives.” He sighed. “C’mon, kids, Bisa will want cuddles.”

“Yay!” Nadia and Sylvio cheered as they followed their father down the hall toward their great-grandmother’s room.

“And then there were two,” Veronica said, leaning against the arm of the couch and patting the empty spot beside her.

“Shouldn’t we see if your mother needs help?” Shiro asked, but accepted the offer, sitting down for the first time since lunch.

“Oh, Mamá knows better than to have me help in the kitchen,” she said with a short laugh. “Besides, Rachel and Lance are much better cooks than I am.”

Shiro raised his brows, his gaze unconsciously straying toward the wall that divided the kitchen and living room. Their mother’s cooking had been phenomenal, but he found himself looking forward to eating whatever it was Lance was making.

“So, how did you and Marco meet?” Veronica asked. “I know Lance said the engagement is a relatively new development, but I’m curious to hear the rest of the story.”

“Oh.” Shiro swallowed. “Well, my friend Keith thought it would be a good idea to surprise me on my birthday this year by setting up a dating profile,” he admitted. “Something about me not getting out enough.” He chuckled and Veronica joined in.

“And that’s how you found Marco?” She cocked her head to the side. “He never mentioned anything about it.”

“Well, neither one of us was on it very long,” Shiro said. “Actually, we were each other’s first.” He paused and then realized how that must have sounded. “I mean, he’s the only person I actually met through the site.”

“Well, I suppose it really doesn’t matter how it happened,” Veronica said, uncrossing her legs and standing up. “The important thing is that you found each other.” Just as she finished, a car honked outside, two short little beeps. “And that would be Pop with Abuelo.” She faced him. “I’m going to go help them with the luggage.”

Shiro furrowed his brow. “What should I do?”

Veronica laughed. “Nothing. Just relax.” Then, just like the others, she left Shiro in the living room.

Relax? Easier said than done. And after a few seconds of bouncing his knee, Shiro stood up and made his way to the kitchen, eager to do _something_.

“Shiro,” Delma greeted when he walked inside. “I thought you were talking with Veronica?”

“I was, but she went to help your husband,” he explained. “She told me to relax, but-”

“You couldn’t resist getting a sneak peek of dinner, hm?” Delma teased. “Well, you can help with the assembly line, then.” She gestured to the spot on the end, just next to Lance. “Make room, Monkey.”

“Sure thing, Mamá,” Lance said and took a few steps, leaving enough room for Shiro to join them at the counter.

“So…” Shiro looked at the ingredients directly in front of him. Mustard, Swiss cheese, and sweet pickles. “What are we making?”

“Why, medianoche, of course,” Delma informed him. “Lisa is just about done slicing the bread, Rachel and I will add the pork and ham, and then you and Lance can finish them off and put them in the press.”

Shiro had heard everything she said, but was still at a loss. They were obviously making some sort of sandwich – like a panini? – but he’d never heard of a medianoche. Though, it did sound a lot like what Keith always got at the café near his work.

“So…it’s like a Cuban?” Shiro asked, remembering the name.

“Yes,” Lance answered. “But the bread and the pickles are sweet,” he explained. “Plus, this is authentic, so forget whatever you’ve eaten in the city.”

“And even if you can’t,” Rachel chimed in, “you’ll never be able to go back after you’ve had this.”

Well, Shiro was definitely looking forward to trying it. But as they assembled the sandwiches and began heating them through on the press, a thought occurred to him. One of the few things Marco had actually told him about his family.

“Is this bread gluten-free?” he asked and the others stopped, blinking up at him in surprise.

“Oh, dear,” Lisa began. “You’re not allergic, are you?”

“No.” Shiro shook his head. “But I was just wondering if this’ll be too much for your father-in-law,” he said to her.

“What?” Rachel and Lance said in unison.

“Because your father,” he continued, “He has celiacs?” He ended it like a question, since the four were looking at him oddly. “I’m fairly certain that’s what Marco told me.”

“Well, I’m not sure where he would have gotten that from,” Delma said. “I pack one of these in Emanuel’s lunch at least once a week.”

“Oh.” Shiro ducked his head, embarrassed. “I guess I remembered it wrong.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it,” Lance reassured him, giving him a gentle pat on the back. “It would have been a lot worse the other way around, right?” He was smiling, that ear-to-ear grin that the rest of the Fernándezes seemed to wear, but that looked best on him.

“You’re right,” Shiro said, releasing a breath.

“Of course, I am.” Lance puffed his chest out, only to wheeze when Rachel elbowed him in the ribs.

“Okay, break’s over,” she said. “We’ve got to get these finished.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a mock-salute, which elicited the kind of eye roll that only sisters can give their brothers – or so Shiro had heard – and then they got back to work, completing the remaining sandwiches just in time for the rest of the family to pour into the kitchen.

 

How a table designed for six at most was able to accommodate twelve was beyond Shiro. But he wasn’t uncomfortable as he sat between Lance and Veronica, happily eating his medianoche and chips. And as he took another bite of the delicious sandwich, he realized that Rachel was right. He could never go back after this.

Maybe he could get Marco to make them back home. Or perhaps his soon-to-be mother-in-law wouldn’t mind sending some bread through the mail on occasion. Was that illegal? He didn’t think so. But then again, would the bread be stale by the time it arrived?

“You seem to have a lot on your mind,” a man spoke, pulling Shiro from his thoughts. “I’ll bet you’re missing Marco.”

“Oh.” Shiro flushed as his soon-to-be father-in-law guessed wrong. But he played it off. “Yes, sir.”

“Come now. None of that,” he reprimanded, but then smiled kindly. “I told you to call me Dad. Or, at the very least, Manny.”

“Sorry, Manny,” Shiro apologized.

“Don’t make it sound like it’s a demand, son,” an older man spoke. “You’ll scare the poor boy.”

He was Lance’s father’s father, a man by the name of Sebastián. And, from what Rachel and Luis had hastily told Shiro before they were all seated, he had been more or less courting Delma’s mother Consuelo for the past fifteen years.

“Don’t think there’s much that’ll scare this boy, Bastián,” Consuelo said with a sweet smile. “Big strong thing that he is…” She looked him up and down.

“Aba, please!” Rachel shouted at her grandmother. “You’re going to embarrass him.”

Too late.

“Well-” Lance cleared his throat, “It’s been a long day and I think Shiro is probably more than a little overwhelmed by,” he paused, gesturing to the entire table, “us.”

“We can be a bit much,” Veronica added before taking another bite of her sandwich.

“So, I think we’ll finish our dinner up in our room.” He stood up, taking his paper plate with him. “Sound good, Shiro?”

Shiro could have sung Lance’s praises. But he just nodded. “If that’s all right with everyone else.”

“You go right ahead,” Delma allowed with a bob of her head. Then she turned to face her youngest son. “But so help me if I find any crumbs on that floor, Lance Rogelio Delmar Fernández-”

“Geez, Mamá,” he groaned through his teeth. “I’m not a kid.”

“ _Monkey…_ ” she threatened.

“We’ll be careful,” he added before making his escape toward the stairs. “C’mon, Shiro!”

“Thanks again for your hospitality,” he said as he stood up. “It was a pleasure meeting you all.”

“Oh, the pleasure was all ours,” Rachel said, twirling a lock of her long hair around her index finger. “See you in the morning.”

Shiro swallowed and nodded before trailing after Lance. His family was nice, but sometimes Rachel was a little _too_ nice.

They took the familiar path up the steps – for the fourth time, Shiro’s quads reminded him – and then walked into the room. At some point, Shiro wasn’t sure when, someone had placed a change of clothes for him on top of Lance’s bed, along with a toothbrush.

“Oh, my phone,” Lance said, setting his plate down and picking it up from the nightstand. “No missed calls. No messages.” He frowned and Shiro did the same. “Well, I’m sure the airport is still looking for your luggage,” he offered, avoiding the real reason for Shiro’s disappointment.

It had been hours, a whole day since he’d left. And his fiancé had still not tried to contact him.

Well, maybe in the morning, if his phone came back to life, Shiro would be pleasantly surprised by a few voicemails.

“Aww, man,” Lance lamented, throwing his head back. “I forgot to clean off Marco’s bed…” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I was going to clear out space in the closet…”

“It’s okay,” Shiro said, stifling a yawn. The long day and sleepless night were catching up to him again. Heck, he could probably fall asleep right there on the ground. Which was good, since his sleep aid was snuggly tucked away in his suitcase at some airport miles from here. “We can always do that in the morning.”

And Shiro must really have been tired, because it took him a whole seven seconds to realize why Lance’s face had gone completely red.

He’d basically just suggested that they sleep together.

“O-Oh-” Shiro wet his lips. “I didn’t mean-”

“Hey, it’s a big enough bed,” Lance cut in, averting his gaze. “And it’s only for tonight.” He busied himself with finishing the rest of his sandwich before tossing the plate into the trash can by the desk. “I’m going to go get ready for bed,” he said, pulling out some clothes from his dresser. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Once again, Lance left in a hurry. And once again, it was after Shiro had said something to fluster the other man.

He sure hoped that Marco got there soon, before he did something really stupid, like accidentally propose to Lance.

Shiro’s cheeks burned at the thought. What on Earth was he even thinking?

But instead of mentally unpacking why that was the first thing he’d come up with, Shiro decided to change into the clothes left out for him. He was too tired to take a shower tonight anyway. He’d just take one in the morning – though, he’d have to make sure to ask Lance how that would work with so many people in the house. Was there a system?

 

Shiro had finished his dinner and was nearly asleep when Lance returned a good half an hour later. But even through bleary eyes, Shiro could make out Lance’s light blue pajamas and matching blue slippers that looked like…lions? But the thing that woke him up fully was the white goop on the younger man’s face.

“Sorry,” Lance apologized as he stepped out of his slippers and slid under the covers. “I sort of have a pretty lengthy nighttime routine.” He gestured toward his face mask. “Skin like this doesn’t just _happen_ , you know.” He smiled, obviously over the awkwardness from before.

“I don’t imagine it does,” Shiro returned. “I guess I’ll go brush my teeth and then we can finally get some rest.”

“Sounds great.” Lance yawned before opening his nightstand drawer and pulling out a pair of headphones and an eye mask. But before Shiro could look away, Lance caught him staring. “Growing up with four older siblings and sharing a room with Marco,” he explained, holding them up. “I mean, I’m sure you know how badly he snores.”

Honestly? Shiro didn’t. He could count the times on one hand that Marco had spent the night. And he was usually gone before Shiro woke up in the morning, heading off to get some extra work in.

“Well, I’ll leave the light on for you,” Lance said and then flopped back onto his pillow with a contented sigh. “Goodnight, Shiro.”

“Goodnight, Lance.” Shiro walked toward the door, giving the other one last lingering glance before he walked into the hall.

 

When Shiro returned, Lance was fast sleep, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Admittedly, Shiro watched him for a tad longer than was truly necessary, though he blamed it on the distracting face cream, headphones, and adorable eye mask with winking cartoon eyes.

Carefully as he could, as to not disturb his bed partner, Shiro climbed onto the mattress and under the blankets. Lance shifted in his sleep, but only released a breath, murmuring something far too soft to hear before growing silent once more.

Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. He was just sharing a bed with his future brother-in-law. It wasn’t like it was anything more than that.

Was it guilt? Did he feel guilty?

Lance moved beside him, stuffing a hand under his pillow snoring softly. Without thinking, Shiro smiled. Traveling to a new place for the holiday all by himself wasn’t ideal, especially paired with having to meet so many family members who, until this morning, didn’t even know he existed. But Lance made it easy. He made it comfortable.

And so, with one last yawn, Shiro lay down on his side.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man... now I really want a medianoche...  
> By the way, this work is complete. I just need to edit the rest and post. 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and feel free to hit me up on my Voltron sideblog [@bleucheesy](http://bleucheesy.tumblr.com)!


	2. Everything Else (and the epilogue!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the rest of the story, as promised!! I even added an epilogue~ I hope you enjoy!!

Shiro should have known better. Even with as little rest as he’d gotten the night before and how hectic the past two days had been, there was no way he was going to sleep through the night without his sleep aid – which was probably mocking him from its place inside his lost luggage.

With a sigh, he opened his eyes in an attempt to gauge what time it was. But when his lids fluttered open, he froze. There, just in front of him, was a slumbering Lance. Shiro had almost forgotten that he’d fallen asleep in the other’s bed!

And what’s more, at some point during the night, Shiro must have shifted in his sleep because he was now so close, he could feel the warm puffs of Lance’s breath against his lips.

Shiro reared back, nearly falling off of the mattress. He caught himself just in time, but shame and embarrassment burned white hot on his cheeks.

Lance was his fiancé’s little brother. What was Shiro thinking? And why was he so flustered?

However, the cosmos seemed to understand that he wasn’t ready for whatever answers his sleep-addled mind was going to supply, because when Shiro tore his gaze away from Lance’s softly snoring form, he saw a green light flashing on the nightstand.

It was Lance’s phone and, when Shiro picked it up, he saw that he’d received a text from Marco!

_‘Flight delayed for snow. Hopefully see you soon!’_

Shiro frowned at the text. That was it? No explanation as to why he hadn’t checked the messages or comment on anything that had happened? It wasn’t like Shiro was looking for an apology or anything, but his fiancé _had_ ditched him at the last minute and sent him off to his family with little to no instructions.

If it weren’t for Lance…

Shiro groaned, running a hand through his hair. He quickly typed a reply, _‘Okay. Sounds good.’_ Before getting out of bed.

He needed a shower.

 

It was barely six in the morning, so Shiro figured he could be in and out of the bathroom before anyone else was even awake.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t the only person with that idea.

He’d just shut Lance’s door, carefully as not to make a sound, when he turned around and came face-to-face with Rachel.

“Oh!” she gasped, eyes wide. She was in her pajamas, her hair a mess of curls around her head and, in her hands, she had a towel and a caddy filled bottles of sweet-smelling liquids. “Shiro,” she exhaled, pulling the items closer to her chest.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, clearing his throat. “I didn’t think anyone else would be up.”

“Ah, well, um…” She seemed flustered, unlike the flirtatious person he’d met yesterday. “Growing up with four siblings, the early bird gets the worm, ya know?” She gave an awkward chuckle. “Um, did you need to use the bathroom?” she asked.

“I was going to take a shower, but I wouldn’t want to-”

“Oh, you go right ahead!” she said, probably a little too loudly for the hour. “I took a soak last night, so I can wait a bit longer.” She bit her lower lip and backed up, running into the bedroom door. “Just don’t use all the hot water,” she threw out before disappearing back into the room.

Shiro stood there for a moment. He certainly did a good job making his new family feel uncomfortable. He was a walking, talking ball of awkward…ness? Awkwardness?

It was too early for vocabulary.

But it looked like the shower was all his. He’d just take a quick one, wash away the airport smell, and then let Rachel have her turn. He didn’t want to mess with the Fernández siblings’ system.

Of course, Shiro should have realized it wouldn’t be that easy. Sure, he’d found the linen closet on his first try and was pleasantly surprised to see that either Luis or Lance had left some shampoo and body wash out for him to use. But that was the end of it, because…

He’d only just closed the curtain and stepped under the spray, the hot water feeling absolutely amazing on his sore muscles, when he heard the door to the bathroom open.

Clearly the person had heard the shower. Maybe they were half asleep and were just going to use the toilet before going back to bed. It wasn’t ideal, but Shiro could handle that.

“Don’t freak out, Rach. It’s just me.”

Of course. _Of course_ , it was Lance who’d walked in. Why hadn’t Shiro locked the door?

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about Shiro,” Lance went on. Over the spray of the shower, Shiro heard the faucet of the sink. There were a few splashes – Lance must have been washing the mask from his face – and then it was off. “I know you and Derrick are cooling it right now, but you really need to stop flirting with Shiro.”

In the shower, Shiro stilled. He wasn’t oblivious, but part of him was hoping that Rachel just acted like that with everyone.

“I know he’s, like, the hottest thing going,” Lance said with a chuckled an Shiro flushed so hotly, he had to turn the temperature of the water down. “But it’s disrespectful to both him and Marco, ya know?”

Shiro wasn’t sure if Lance was expecting an answer. But he couldn’t say anything now. He’d let it go on too long.

“Anyway, I get that you’re lonely,” he went on. “And Shiro is such a great guy, I know he wouldn’t ever say anything.” He sighed, audible even over the shower. “But he’s going to be family soon. And if I can restrain myself, so can you.” He opened the door again. “I’m going to go find him and start breakfast. See you in a bit.” Then the door clicked shut.

Shiro stood frozen under the water. If Lance could ‘restrain’ himself? Lance was restraining himself? From what? He couldn’t possibly mean…

Oh, but what did it matter? Lance was right! Shiro was engaged to his _brother_ , for crying out loud. But, despite that, Shiro wanted to know what the other had meant. Did he…did he have feelings for Shiro?

They’d only just met. Lance was probably just happy to have someone to talk to about antique clocks. Yeah. That was it.

Shiro shook his head. That sounded ridiculous, even to his half-exhausted, sleep-addled mind. But, choosing to ignore what had just happened – how would he even bring it up, anyway? – Shiro quickly washed himself off and got out of the shower.

Of course, he made sure to grab the towel and put it on while still behind the curtain. Who knew who else was going to walk in?

And next time, Shiro thought to himself, he’d lock the door.

 

Thankfully, Lance was not in the room when Shiro got back. But there was another pile of clothes waiting for him. Shiro smiled, imagining Lance sneaking into Luis’s room to get him something to wear.

But he quickly wiped the expression off of his face. Lance was going to be his brother-in-law. He was not going to think of him as anything else. Even if the other’s signature grin appeared in his mind’s eyes. The way his bangs fell. The beautiful color of his eyes, like the ocean just outside the window.

Crap.   

Shiro bit his lip – hard – and tore his gaze away from the bed where, only minutes earlier, he’d been nestled warmly under the covers, so close that he could’ve counted Lance’s eyelashes.

Had he not been wearing that cute mask, of course.

“Ugh.” Shiro ran a hand through his still-damp hair. What was wrong with him? He quickly got dressed and, after tugging the shirt over his head, he spotted Lance’s phone on the nightstand.

His phone! It should be dry by now – if the rice trick worked the same way it had on Keith’s.

So, ignoring the weird mixture of emotions swirling in his gut, Shiro walked out of the room and down the stairs. And if he wasn’t already trying to forget how messed up he was feeling, all thoughts would have fled from his mind the moment he stepped into the kitchen because… _wow_ , did that ever smell good!

“Oh, good morning, Shiro!” Delma greeted from the table. She already had a plate in front of her, piled high with the most mouthwatering French toast Shiro had ever set his eyes upon. “Pull up a chair,” she offered, patting the spot beside her.

Everyone else was still asleep, save for Lance, who was standing in front of the oven, cooking on the stovetop. “Morning!” he said without looking behind him. “I’ll have your plate ready in just a minute,” he promised, placing another piece of custard-soaked bread in the sizzling pan.

“That looks amazing,” Shiro said as he took a seat, allowing Delma to pour him a glass of orange juice – because, frankly, she wouldn’t let him get it himself – and taking a sip.

“We had quite a bit of the sweet bread leftover from dinner last night, so my little Monkey got to work early this morning,” Delma said, throwing her son a sweet smile. Again, Lance didn’t turn around, but his ears colored red. Delma lowered her voice to a whisper. “My Monkey takes after his Mamá. Such a good cook, he is.” She winked.

“Mamá, stop,” Lance said, face pink as he set a plate down in front of Shiro. “Maybe try talking about Marco?” he suggested, walking away before Shiro could even thank him.

“Oh, I would,” Delma said. “But he hasn’t even updated me on his flight information.” She pouted. “I have failed as a mother. My children are so bad at communicating.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Lance said as he continued to cook. “He sent a text this morning about his flight being delayed for snow.”

“Yes and nothing else. No flight number. No EPA-”

“ETA,” Lance corrected with a snort.

“Don’t get smart,” Delma scolded, throwing a scathing look his way. “You’re lucky you made me this delicious breakfast,” she teased.

“Mhm,” Lance hummed in reply, his hips swaying rhythmically as he plated more of the French toast, which made Shiro wonder if Lance liked to dance. He bet Lance was a great dancer.

But he shook his head and focused on his breakfast. He probably should have worried about the amount of calories he was ingesting, but it was Christmas Eve. He’d go back to eating normally after he and Marco returned home.

 

Lance made breakfast for the entire family and didn’t get a chance to sit down and eat something for himself until everyone else was outside, playing with the kids.

Shiro stayed behind, not wanting to let the other man eat by himself.

“You don’t have to keep me company, you know,” Lance said between bites. “I heard you promise Nadia and Sylvio a game of tag.”

“Yes, well-” Shiro cleared his throat. “I couldn’t just abandon you after you cooked for everyone.”

“Hmm.” Lance smiled behind his fork. “I think I get why Marco was so quick to propose,” he said. But Shiro didn’t get a chance to respond, because the twins burst into the kitchen and practically dragged him outside, demanding that they ‘get a turn with Tío Shiro.’

Lance just waved him off, so Shiro allowed them to pull him out onto the soft sand of the beach.

It was still pretty warm, but the breeze off of the ocean was pleasantly cool. The water, however, as Luis was quick to inform both him and the kids, was far too cold for swimming.

But Shiro had a wonderful time playing tag and hide and seek with the twins. He didn’t have any brothers or sisters of his own growing up and Keith – his closest thing to family – expressed no interest in having any children any time soon. So, this was nice.

Shiro imagined what it would be like, coming back here at Christmastime with his own kids. Would their eyes be as blue as the ocean, too?

“Beach volleyball!” Veronica shouted, interrupting his thoughts. She had one hand on her hip, the other holding the ball. “Girls versus boys.” She and Rachel smirked. “We’ll try to go easy on you.”

“Oh, we don’t have to take that,” Luis said, wrapping an arm around Shiro’s shoulders. “Let’s crush them, Shiro.”

It had been years since Shiro had played volleyball. And even then, it was indoor. But he understood the rules as they were explained to him and he was honestly having too much fun to be worried about breaking any.

“Did someone say volleyball?” Lance appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “Need I remind you who made the game-winning spike the last three years in a row?”

“Oh, please.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Lucky shots.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it.” Lance strutted proudly forward.

“All right, all right.” Veronica broke them up. “Let’s get into teams.”

The teams were a little uneven. But it was just as well. On the girls’ side stood Veronica, Rachel, Lisa, Delma, and Nadia. And on the boys’, there was Luis, Lance, Sylvio, and Shiro. Manny was the referee, choosing to sit in the sun beside Consuelo and Sebastián.

“Okay, you know the rules,” Rachel said, getting ready to serve. “First team to fifteen wins the set. Two out of three sets wins the match.”

“Yeah, yeah. Quit talking and serve, woman!” Luis said.

“Luis!” Lisa scolded him and then turned toward her sister-in-law. “Make it a service ace, Rachel.”

“You’ve got it,” she replied and then started the game.

Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Manny and the grandparents were keeping track of the score, but he couldn’t have told someone if they’d asked. He was too busy laughing as Luis made impossible dives into the sand or when Lance lifted Sylvio onto his shoulders so he could spike the ball over the net.

He could have continued playing all day, but it was getting late and the kids had started to complain that they were hungry.

“Okay, this is the winning point,” Veronica said before serving. Lance easily hit it back.

“Mine!” Rachel called, popping it up. “Mamá!”

“Got it,” Delma said, lifting Nadia into the air.

“Take this!” the little girl shouted and smacked the ball into the net. “Oops…”

“I’ve got it,” Veronica dove to save the ball and Lisa picked it up, sending it back over.

Shiro watched as the ball came toward him. It was easy enough to hit, he just had to wait for the right moment to –

“This bag of rice is ringing!” someone called, catching his attention and, just like that, the ball slammed into the side of Shiro’s face, knocking him back onto the sand. He landed on his backside with a grunt.

“Shiro!” the others called, running over to him.

“Oh, sorry!” Sebastián apologized as he made his way across the dunes. “Shiro, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said, face blazing. That had to be on the top ten list of most embarrassing things to happen at a family gathering.

“Ah, that’s good,” the older man said. “I was just inside getting Consuelo a glass of water, when I heard this ringing.” He held up a plastic bag of rice.

Shiro had checked on his phone earlier, but the screen was still a bit foggy, so he’d stuffed it back into the bag. But apparently, he must have turned it on. So, with Lance and Luis’s help, Shiro stood up and took the bag from Sebastián, fishing his phone out.

_One missed call from Marco._

“It was Marco!” he said, earning cheers from the entirety of the Fernández family. “I’ll call him back.”

“Go on inside,” Lisa said. “Get some privacy-”

“While you can,” Luis added with a belly laugh. “We’ll clean up out here.”

Shiro nodded his head in thanks and took off toward the house. His screen was still a bit of a mess, but he managed to call back.

_‘Hello?’_

“Marco!” he said, still breathless from the game and running through the sand.

_‘Thank God! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you since yesterday.’_

“Oh, well, did you not get any of my messages?” He frowned. He was certain he’d used the correct number.

_‘I’ve been in and out of meetings the past two days,’_ Marco replied. _‘I saw some missed calls and texts from an unknown number, but you know I don’t check those.’_ He sighed. _‘What happened to your phone?’_

“It’s a long story,” Shiro answered with a tired laugh. “But I’m at your family’s house. Are you still on your way?”

_‘Boarding now,’_ he answered. _‘I had a layover in Miami.’_

“Same here,” Shiro said. “Well, I’ll let you go. But I’ll see you soon?”

_‘You got it, Gorgeous,’_ Marco answered. _‘Oh, and I’ve got a big surprise for you!’_ He chuckled. _‘Gotta go. I’ll message when I land, but don’t worry. I’ll call a cab.’_ Then he hung up.

Shiro sighed. He couldn’t believe Marco hadn’t gotten a single one of his messages. But then he paused. Wait. Hadn’t Marco answered about his flight being delayed because of snow? Shiro hadn’t imagined that. But why would Marco lie?

“So, what’s the good word?” Luis asked as the rest of the family walked into the house, dusting off their feet at the door.

“Marco just boarded his plane,” he said, forgetting the inconsistency for now. “He should be here in a few hours.”

“Excellent!” Delma cheered. “Then we’ll get started.”

“Get started?” Shiro blinked.

“Baking, of course,” Delma went on. “Who wants Christmas cookies for lunch?” she asked, eliciting excited squeals from both Nadia and Sylvio.

“Cookies for lunch?” Lisa asked. “Wait, Mom-”

“It’s too late,” Luis said, shaking his head and placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. And it was. The twins and their grandmother were already on their way to the kitchen.

“I think I’m going to take a nap,” Consuelo said. “After I finish my little project.”

“I can help you,” Sebastián offered.

“No you can’t,” she replied with a raspy laugh. “But you can keep me company.”

“And I think I’ll get the rest of the ornaments down from the attic,” Manny said. “Delma’s only been asking me for weeks.”

“I’m going to go with Aba’s original plan and take a nap on the couch,” Luis said, earning a backhand to the belly. He rubbed the sore spot and frowned at his wife, who had already taken her hand back and was fixing her hair. “Or I’ll help you, Pop.”

“That leaves the rest of us on cookie duty,” Rachel noted. “You, too, V.”

“Do you want another kitchen fire?” she asked, adjusting her glasses. “Because that’s how you get a kitchen fire.”

“C’mon,” Lance urged. “You can help the kids decorate.” He grinned, his gaze meeting Shiro’s. “We promise not to let you near the oven.”

They all had a good laugh – save for Veronica – and then Rachel, Lance, Lisa, and Shiro followed her into the kitchen where Delma and the kids were already setting up at the table.

“I want to make gingerbread!” Nadia said excitedly as she tied her apron.

“No, let’s make peanut butter blossoms for Mami,” Sylvio threw out, smiling at Lisa.

“What about shortbread?” Lance suggested before reaching for his own apron and tossing two more at Veronica and Shiro. “Or we could make marshmallow crispy treats.”

“Crispy treats aren’t cookies, Tío Lance.” Sylvio frowned up at him.

“Yes,” Lance replied, booping him on the nose. “But they’re Tío Marco’s favorites.” He looked up at Shiro again, his eyes sparkling. “And wouldn’t that be a great way to welcome him home?”

“Yeah!” the kids cried, throwing their arms in the air. “Let’s make crispy treats!”

“Oh, let me see if I’ve got some marshmallows,” Delma said, sneaking off to the pantry.

“You know, it might be fun to decorate them when we’re done,” Lisa added. “And maybe mix in some sprinkles.”

“Sprinkles!” Nadia, Sylvio, and Lance cheered together.

Veronica snorted. “Lance, you big kid.”

“I’m a man who knows what he likes,” he snapped back with his nose in the air, his gaze once again falling on Shiro. “You like sprinkles, right, Shiro?” he asked.

And Shiro, unable to keep the grin from curving his lips, nodded. “I love them.”

 

They ended up making about six different types of cookies, including the treats, which were mixed with sprinkles, chocolate chips, and smeared with green, red, and white frosting.

“It’s almost time to start on dinner,” Delma noted, checking the clock. “Rachel, you remembered to soak the beans overnight, right?”

“Yes, Mamá,” she groaned, setting the half-eaten cookie she was holding onto the table. “How can you even _think_ about food right now?”

“I’m just going to get it started,” she replied. “And while everything is cooking, we can take the family photo.”

Shiro, in his cookie-induced food coma, perked up at that. He remembered Veronica saying something about how they took one every year. “Shouldn’t we wait for Marco?” he asked.

“Of course, we will,” Delma answered. “But he should be here by then.” And so, earning various grunts and groans, she got half of the family up and working on dinner.

Shiro was excused and happily took a seat on the couch beside Luis, who was watching Manny, Sebastián, and the twins put the last of the ornaments on the tree. Just then, Consuelo came out of her room, her hands on her hips.

“I need a big, strong man to help me,” she said, her light blue eyes twinkling. “Shiro?” Eager to be of use, Shiro quickly hurried to her side. “Come with me,” she beckoned and had him follow her to her room.

Inside, there was a big box with a bow on top. “This?” he asked and she nodded. The box itself wasn’t particularly heavy, but it was a little awkward. He had no trouble bringing it out and into the living room where he found the rest of the family eagerly awaiting their matriarch’s surprise.

“Open it up, please,” she asked Shiro before taking a seat on one of the kitchen chairs they’d brought in to help accommodate everyone.

Shiro did as he was told, surprised to see that the box was full of “Sweaters?” he asked, taking one out.

“Yes,” Consuelo replied. “I knit one for everyone in the family.” She gave an over-exaggerated sigh. “So, don’t expect me to make anything else until next year,” she added with a laugh.

“Awesome!” Nadia and Sylvio came running forward. “Are they ugly Christmas sweaters?”

“I should say not!” Consuelo retorted with a frown. “I only make the best for my family.”

Luis and Lisa snickered, but didn’t clue her in to the trend.

“So, how do we know whose is whose?” Shiro asked, looking down at the pile.

“They each have the first letter of everyone’s name on them,” she answered. “I got the idea from the magic Christmas movie with the school.”

Lance and Rachel held in their laughter, but just barely. And Veronica nearly choked on the cookie she was eating.

“Who are we?” Veronica asked. “The Weasleys?”

“The who?” Consuelo frowned.

“All right.” Shiro cleared his throat and then reached into the box. “Let’s see… D?”

“That’s me,” Delma called and took the offered sweater.

“E… S… C…” He handed them out, giving Consuelo hers, as well. “Ah, here are two kid-sized ones, S and N.”

“Those are ours!” Nadia clapped excitedly.

“R… V…” Shiro passed out the next two. “M.” He placed that one to the side for when Marco arrived. “L…” He looked up at the expectant faces of Luis, Lisa, and Lance. “I’ll…let you figure out which is which.” He chuckled, tossing them over. “Well, that’s everybody,” he said.

“Not everybody, yet,” Consuelo corrected, pointing back into the box. And there, at the very bottom, was one last red and green sweater with the letter T stitched onto the front.

He pulled it out, heat building behind his eyes. “For me?” Then he looked up to find the rest of the family beaming at him. His family.

“I couldn’t very well leave out the newest Fernández,” Consuelo said with a wink. “Now, let’s get these on and start posing for that photo.”

“Sounds good.” Rachel stood up. “Any word on when Marco is supposed to get here?”

“I’ll check my phone,” Shiro said, retrieving it from where it was charging on the corner. It was flashing with a message alert, so he swiped to unlock.

_‘On my way, Gorgeous! See you in a few.’_

“He’s almost here!” Shiro called.

“Great!” Veronica pulled her sweater over her head. “Ooh, this is soft.”

Soon, every member of the Fernández family had donned their personalized matching sweaters – including Shiro.

“Okay,” Manny called, standing behind the tripod. “Everyone get close together next to the tree.”

The kids were in the front with Delma, Lisa, and Consuelo right behind them. Sebastián was on one side, leaving the other free for Manny to join once he’d started the timer. Veronica and Rachel stood in the windows left by the shorter women, and Luis automatically went to the back.

“Shall we?” Lance asked, leading Shiro to the group and taking his place between him and Luis. “Ah, you know what,” he whispered, not daring to move as his dad focused. “I totally forgot to clean off Marco’s bed.”

“That’s all right,” Shiro replied, also trying to stay still. “We can do it together when he arrives.”

“Sounds good,” Lance said. “And maybe you can take a look at the clock after your tearful reunion,” he teased.

“All right.” Manny adjusted the zoom. “Let’s take a test shot so we can see how it looks.” But just as he set the timer and the countdown started, the front door opened.

Shiro’s heart began thudding in his chest. Was Marco home already? But he deflated when he saw someone he didn’t know walk into the room.

Maybe he was Rachel’s boyfriend? What was his name? Derrick? Although, this man really resembled a Fernández. He had their signature smile and looked like an older, lankier version of Lance.

“Hurry up!” Manny called when the man walked inside. “You’ve got eleven seconds!” Veronica threw a sweater at him and he quickly pulled it over his head.

Clearly, they could have started the timer again, but everyone seemed so frantic, the man just went along with it.

“Squeeze in next to Shiro!” Rachel beckoned him over and he did, making it just in time for the red light on the camera to start flashing in rapid succession. Then there was a blinding light when it finally took the picture.

“Okay, let’s see how it turned out.” Manny ran forward, checking the result. He grinned. “Hey, I think this one might be a keeper.” They all cheered and promptly left their spots, heading back to sit down.

Well, all save for Lance, Shiro, and the man who’d just walked in, who Shiro only just realized was wearing the sweater with an M on it.

“So,” he began, looking up at him. “Shiro?”

“Yes,” he replied, holding his hand out.

“Is that really any way to greet a fiancé?” Lance snorted from beside him.

“Fiancé?” the man blinked, raising his brows. “Lance, I had no idea! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Lance frowned. “Um…what are you talking about?”

“I know I’ve been busy with work, but I’d hope my little bro would tell me if he got engaged again,” he said with a laugh and then faced Shiro once more, finally taking his offered hand. “It’s great to meet you. I’m Marco.”

The entire room seemed to freeze around him. And Shiro barely felt Marco’s hand in his. He knew everyone was staring, but he was having a hard time focusing. “M-Marco?” he managed.

“Yup,” he said. “I’m Lance’s older brother.”

Suddenly, things were starting to add up. The inconsistencies, the lack of communication, the fact that Marco had never mentioned having any siblings before.

“I’m…” Shiro swallowed. “I’m at the wrong house.”

“What?” Lance asked, his voice muffled as the blood rushed in Shiro’s ears.

“I’m at the wrong house,” he repeated. He pulled his hand back and tugged at his collar, his sweater suddenly stifling. “This is not my Marco.”

“What do you mean?” Rachel stepped forward.

“I mean,” Shiro began, “this is not _my_ Marco Fernández.” He took a staggering step backwards. “I’ve made a mistake.” He needed to get out of the house. Now. “I’m so sorry.” Shiro turned on his heel and ran out of the room. He didn’t stop until he was outside, his heart pounding and his head spinning.

How could he have been so foolish? Fernández was a very common last name, especially down here. But he’d been so happy to have someone to help him at the airport, that he didn’t take the time to confirm that Lance’s Marco and his were, in fact, the same.

Lance. Oh God. He’d made a fool of himself in front of Lance. And their entire family.

“Hey.” Speak of the devil. “I can’t imagine what you must be thinking right now.”

“That I’m a complete idiot who went home to the wrong family’s house for Christmas?” Shiro scoffed, taking a seat on the sand and wrapping his arms around his knees. “I’d wondered why things weren’t adding up…”

“Hey, it was a simple mistake,” Lance said, sitting down beside him. “It could have happened to anyone.”

“Yeah, but it happened to me.” He blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “I had the most amazing time getting to know who I thought would be my new family.” He bit his lip. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“You don’t have to be.” Lance placed a hand on his shoulder. “No one in there is judging you,” he said. “And even if you aren’t _our_ Marco’s fiancé, we still had an awesome time getting to know you.” He let his hand drop to join the other in his lap. “I know I did.”

Shiro glanced over and then back out at the ocean. It was nearly sunset. “I should really call my Marco and let him know where I am.”

Lance nodded and stood up, dusting the sand from the back of his pants. “I’ll go get your phone.”

 

His Marco showed up a half an hour or so later. “Shiro, oh my God.” He stepped out of the taxi and ran over to him. “How on Earth could this have happened?”

“I lost the address and I met someone who I _thought_ was your brother,” he said, feeling ashamed. “I should have double-checked.”

“Yes,” Marco agreed, smoothing back his gelled hair. “You should have.” He pat Shiro’s cheek. “But I’m here now, so no harm done.” He pulled away and addressed the family, who had all come out to bid Shiro farewell. “Thank you for taking care of my fiancé.” He pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, keep your money,” Delma said with a smile. “It was a pleasure having Shiro with us.”

“Yeah,” Sylvio joined in. “Tío Shiro is the coolest!” Nadia agreed.

“Well-” Marco put his wallet away. “You have my thanks.” He faced Shiro again and paused, looking down at his chest. “What’s with the sweater?”

“Oh.” Shiro flushed. He was still wearing it. “I forgot I had it on. I’ll just-”

“Don’t you dare,” Consuelo stepped forward. “I made that for you with love.” She smiled. “You’d better hang onto it.”

Shiro nodded. “I will.”

“And don’t forget to take some cookies with you.” Lisa stepped forward, holding out a tin. “We made so many, after all.”

“Thank you,” Shiro said, accepting the cookies. Then he looked at all the faces of the other Fernándezes. He’d only known them for a short while, but he was going to miss them so much. He stopped scanning when he realized he’d come up one short. “Where’s Lance?” The question was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

“He’s upstairs,” Rachel answered him.

“I see…” Shiro’s heart sank. Was Lance actually mad at him? After all, Lance had done the most for Shiro. All because he’d thought he was helping his future brother-in-law.

“Well, it’s getting late,” his Marco said. “And my family’s beach house is on the other side of town.” He waved at Lance’s family. “Thanks again.” And then walked back to the waiting car.

Shiro gave one last look at the people he’d grown so fond of over the last day and a half. Had it only been that long? He felt like he’d known them forever.

“Take care, Shiro!” Veronica waved. “I think I speak for all of us when I say you’re welcome back anytime.”

Shiro returned the gesture, filled with a mixture of emotions, and then turned to walk to the car. But he stopped when he heard someone calling his name. It was Lance. And, without his permission, his heart skipped a beat.

“Shiro! Wait!” the other called, squeezing between his father and Luis and running up to the car. “I wanted you to have this.” In his hands, Lance was holding the antique clock.

“I…I couldn’t,” Shiro gasped. “Lance, it’s too valuable.”

“Please.” He held it out. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”

Knowing it would be rude to deny him twice, Shiro accepted the gift. “I promise I will.”

“Cool,” Shiro’s Marco said, eyeing the antique. “Neat old clock.” He smiled at Lance. “Thanks, Buddy.” Then he placed a hand on Shiro’s arm. “C’mon, Babe. Let’s go.”

“I’m really going to miss you,” Lance said. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m really glad I bumped into you.” He smiled, a bit watery. “See you around and, uh, Merry Christmas.” And, like he tended to do, Lance disappeared before Shiro could reply.

“Aww,” Marco said as they got into the back of the taxi. “I think he has a little crush on you, Gorgeous.” He snickered. “But who could blame him? I do have good taste.”

“Uh… yeah.” Shiro looked down at the antique clock – its time wrong and its arms unmoving. “Sure.”

 

Marco was right about his parents’ beach house being far away from the Fernández’s. It was clear across town, past towering condominiums and the perfectly manicured lawns of people’s winter homes.

“Well,” Marco began as the taxi slowed to a stop. “Here we are.”

This house was nothing like the other Fernández’s. All the houses on the street were painted cheery colors. Oranges, pinks, and seafoam. But they all lacked the warmth of a family home and looked exactly the same. Marco’s included.

“Shall we?” he asked before leading Shiro up the walk and unlocking the door.

Everything inside the house looked like it had been ordered from that magazine that people only seemed to be able to find on airplanes. And there was a fountain in the middle of the entryway.

“Darling!” a woman called from the top of the stairs – which were made of polished wood and Plexiglas, and were situated atop a rock garden. “You found your fiancé. Oh, I was out of my head with worry.”

“Hello, Mother,” Marco greeted. “Shiro, this is my mother, Elena Fernández,” he introduced. “Mother, this is my fiancé, Takashi Shirogane.”

“Welcome, Takashi,” she said. “We couldn’t believe that you ended up at the wrong house.”

Shiro’s cheeks burned.

“He lost the address when his phone died,” Marco explained.

“And Fernández _is_ a pretty popular name,” Shiro added in his defense.

“That’s true.” She nodded. “Well, your father should be home any minute and then we’ll have dinner.”

At the mention of food, Shiro’s stomach grumbled. And, for a moment, he wondered how good the other house smelled right now. And if they were already eating the rice and beans and pork that had been cooking all day.

“What are we having?” Marco asked. And Shiro hoped fried plantains were on the menu. Lance and the kids had mentioned them earlier and he’d really been looking forward to trying them.

“Hmm, I’m going to order in,” Elena said. “How about sushi?” She looked at Shiro. “Does that sound good?”

He tried to hide his disappointed and nodded.

“Excellent.” She clapped her hands together. “I’ll go make the call.”

 

They were already halfway into their meal when Marco’s father arrived. Apparently, working extra hours ran in the family – even on vacation.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he set his briefcase down. “But I just closed on a deal and a half.” He paused, raising his brows at Shiro. “Is this my future son-in-law?” he asked, loosening his tie. “Mateo Fernández,” he introduced himself. “And you’re…Shirio, right?”

“Shiro,” Marco corrected.

“Oh, right. The one you met online.” His father nodded. “Guess those sites do have more than desperate twenty-somethings, huh?”

“Dear,” Elena changed the subject, addressing her son. “Didn’t you say you had another surprise for us?”

“Oh, right.” Marco beamed. “Though, this is more for Shiro” He could barely contain his glee and Shiro found his curiosity piqued. “How would you like to vacation in Maui next year?” he asked and Shiro blinked.

“Um… sure. I guess?”

“And Barbados after that?” Marco continued. “And then Greece. Italy. China-”

“I’m… not sure I follow.” Shiro furrowed his brow. There was no way he could afford all of those vacations. And there was most certainly no way Marco would take the time off to go on them.

“Well, now you’ll be able to travel wherever you want, Mr. Multi-Millionaire,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening a PDF.

Shiro stared at the document, confused. “Marco – what?”

“You know how that development company kept low-balling you, trying to buy your store so they could put condos overlooking the park?” he asked and Shiro nodded. He’d gotten plenty of calls over the years because of his parents’ shop’s ideal location.

“Yeah?”

“Well,” Marco began with a grin. “It took some doing, but I got Galra Corporation to offer you…” He held his hands out, building the tension. “Four million dollars.”

“That is excellent, son!” Mateo cheered, slapping him on the back.

“I’m sorry.” Shiro shook his head. “They offered me four million dollars for what, exactly?”

“Your shop’s location,” Marco replied. “And don’t worry. They’ve agreed to pay to have everything moved to a storage unit.”

Shiro dropped his chopsticks, his appetite gone. “What?”

“I think he’s in shock.” Mateo laughed.

“Is this final?” Shiro asked, rage boiling up inside him.

“We just need you to sign on the dotted line, Gorgeous,” Marco said. “Then you’re out from under that business and free to travel the world.”

“Out from-” Shiro stood up, knocking his chair to the ground. “That was my _parents’_ shop.”

“And now you’re not stuck with it anymore.” Marco smiled up at him, seemingly unfazed. “You’re welcome.”

Shiro clenched his fists at his sides. “Well, tell the buyers that the deal is off,” he said, gritting his teeth.

“Excuse me?” Marco raised his brows.

“The deal is off,” Shiro repeated and then turned around, heading toward the stairs and the room Elena had shown him earlier while they waited for the food to arrive.

He walked inside and closed the door, locking it behind him. He paced for a moment before coming to a halt and falling back onto the king size mattress.

Marco had tried to sell his store. After Shiro had told him time and again that he intended to keep it. It might not have been the most glamorous life, but he liked what he did.

He looked over to the side, at his luggage that had been delivered the day before – apparently, the other airport had called Marco’s office to get the address – and beside the black bag, lay Lance’s clock.

Shiro sighed and sat up, picking the antique up in his hands. He wished he’d brought his repair kit with him. He really wanted to get the clock running again. To show it to Lance. But he supposed he had plenty of time to do that when he got home. “ _To the_ _store I’m keeping_ ,” he said aloud.

There came a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Shiro asked.

“It’s Marco.” There was a jiggling of the knob, followed by a slight pause. “Let me in, Gorgeous?”

Shiro closed his eyes and took a deep breath before carefully setting the clock down. Then he stood up and unlocked the door. “What?”

“I know you’re mad,” Marco said. “And you have every right to be, but I think you’re missing the big picture here-”

“The big picture is that I want to keep my parents’ store,” he said. “The one they left to me after they died, Marco.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean, why did you even start negotiating offers? I told you I didn’t want to sell it.”

“I thought you were just waiting for the right amount,” Marco said. “I guess…I guess I’m not very good at reading you.” He shook his head. “I thought you were more like me.”

“I think,” Shiro began, wetting his lips. “I think-” But he couldn’t finish it. Not while he was upset.

“Me, too,” Marco said. “We definitely rushed into things.”

Wow. For once, Marco knew exactly what Shiro was thinking.

They sat there in silence for a moment until Shiro spoke. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your ring back?”

Marco faced him. “Only if you want to give it back.”

“I think I do.” He chewed on his lower lip. “I’m sorry I-”

“Don’t be,” Marco interrupted him, placing his hand on his. “We’re two very different people and I… I guess I just realized that.”

Shiro gave a sad smile and relaxed his shoulders. “No hard feelings?”

Marco snorted. “Please.” He bumped their shoulders. “I could never stay mad at you, Gorgeous.” He grinned and held his palm out when Shiro removed his ring. “And I guess _you’ll_ be wanting to head back home, huh?”

“I suppose so,” Shiro said.

“You’re welcome to stay until after Christmas,” Marco said. “I know that the airports are crazy right now.”

Shiro thought about that. He definitely wanted out of this house, but he wasn’t ready to go home. Not yet. “Actually,” he said, catching Marco’s attention. “There’s somewhere else I’d like to go first.”

 

Shiro knew it was a risk, showing up outside of the familiar yellow beach house so late at night on Christmas Eve. But the taxi was already gone, leaving him, his suitcase, and Lance’s clock behind. And now he was having second thoughts. What if the Fernándezes were just being nice? What if he wasn’t welcome back? What if Lance didn’t even want to see him?

He shifted his weight on the balls of his feet. It was now or never. So, he stepped forward, making his way up the walk until he reached the door. Then he raised his fist and knocked twice. A few seconds passed before someone answered.

“-didn’t think we were expecting anyone…else.” Veronica gave a slow smile when she finally looked at him. “Lance!” she called. “I think it’s for you.”

Shiro opened his mouth to object, but she was already gone, making way for her younger brother to come to the door.

“Shiro,” he gasped. “I…I thought you went to go stay with your real fiancé.”

Shiro lifted his left hand, showing that the ring was gone. “We realized that we weren’t meant to be,” he said.

“Oh, Shiro.” Lance’s face fell. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said. “It’s better this way. I promise.”

They stood there for a moment before Lance’s eyes widened and he stepped to the side. “Oh, gosh. Do you want to come in?”

“Actually,” Shiro sighed, looking up at the stars. “I thought it might be nice to go for a walk along the beach.” He lowered his chin, meeting Lance’s gaze. “Care to join me?”

 

With Shiro’s suitcase and Lance’s clock safely stowed inside, the two made a path down to the ocean, walking close enough so their bare feet sunk into the wet sand, but not so close as to touch the freezing water.

“So, it didn’t work out, huh?” Lance asked, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking out to sea. “That’s a real shame.”

“I suppose,” Shiro said. “But, if I’m being honest, I’m relieved.” He bit his lip. Now or never. “Plus, I was kind of starting to fall for someone else…”

“O-Oh?” Lance coughed, snapping his head back to face him. But he quickly replaced his shocked expression with a smirk. “Rachel’s flirting finally got to you?” he asked and then shook his head. “Sorry to break it to you, but she and Derrick got back together.”

“Aww, what a shame,” Shiro joked. “But I was thinking of a different Fernández sibling.”

“Veronica?” Lance suggested.

“No.”

“Luis?”

Shiro chuckled. “No.”

“Our Marco? You like the name that much?” Lance teased.

“Getting warmer,” Shiro said. “I think they share a room.”

Lance visibly swallowed, his blush evident even in the moonlight.

“I’m not sure if he’s into me, though,” Shiro continued when Lance didn’t respond. “I mean, first he spills coffee on me, then he practically kidnaps me in an old jalopy-”

“Hey!” Lance gave Shiro a playful shove. “Pretty sure you won’t win my heart by insulting Blue.”

“Then how should I go about it?” Shiro asked, taking a few more steps before realizing Lance had come to a complete stop. He turned to see the other man staring down at his feet, his hands back in his pockets. “Well?”

“Well,” Lance echoed. “I suppose you could get to know my family,” he said. “They’re really important to me.”

“Oh?” Shiro smiled. “And how should I do that?”

“You know, sitting down for meals with them, baking with them…” He glanced up. “Playing beach volleyball.”

The sea breeze tussled Lance’s bangs, blowing them back and revealing his little widow’s peak and those beautiful eyes Shiro loved so much. His breath caught. “And what about after that?” Shiro asked, closing the distance between them.

“Well.” Lance wet his lips, moving closer. “I like long walks on the beach.”

Shiro wasn’t sure who made the first move, but suddenly, they were kissing, Lance’s lips soft and warm against his. Perfect. “Lance,” he breathed when they broke for air. Then he kissed him again, over and over, threading his fingers in the other’s short hair and pulling him impossibly close.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both panting. “Shiro,” Lance whispered. “I’ve wanted to do that from the moment I met you.”

“Oh, really?” Shiro asked, tucking a stray lock behind Lance’s ear. “Before or after you thought I was engaged to your older brother?”

Lance pouted up at him. “I thought you looked kissable the first time I laid eyes on you, if you must know,” he said. Then he gave a fond little smile. “But the more I got to know you, the more time I wanted to spent together.” He peered up at him. “But I could never hurt Marco that way. No matter how I felt about you.”

Shiro brushed his knuckles against Lance’s cheek. “And now?”

“Now…” Lance placed his hand over Shiro’s, leaning into the touch. “I guess I could help you mend that broken heart of yours.”

With a snort, Shiro pulled him into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. And they stayed like that for a beat, the only sound being the waves lapping at the sand.

“You know what might help?” Shiro asked, not letting Lance go and laughing when the other gave a muffled ‘What?’ against his shoulder. “Trying some of those fried plantains you were talking about.”

Lance laughed and pulled back. “Ah, the perfect cure.” He grinned, his eyes sparkling. “And I think that could be arranged.”

“Lance, are you still out here?” Veronica called from the back door. “The kids want to play charades with Tío Shiro!”

Shiro’s cheeks heated and Lance slipped his hand into his, cupping his other hand by his mouth. “Tell them we’ll be there in a minute!”

“You’d better!” Veronica shouted back and then went inside.

“Shall we?” Lance asked and then began walking forward. But Shiro hesitated. “What is it?”

“Do Nadia and Sylvio still think Marco and I are engaged?” he asked and before Lance could answer, he clarified, “The whole Tío Shiro thing.”

“Oh.” Lance caught on. “No, the twins know you’re not really going to be my brother-in-law.” He paused, ducking his head as a flush crept over his face. “They did ask if you were going to be my husband, though.”

Shiro’s eyes widened, but he grinned. “Takashi Fernández,” he said, bringing Lance’s hand to his lips and brushing them against his knuckles. “You did say you liked the sound of it.”

“I believe,” Lance began, clearing his throat. “What I said was that it sounded perfect.”

“Ah, right.” Shiro nodded. “Well, I suppose we can cross that bridge when we come to it.” He gave Lance’s hand a squeeze. “But for now, I need to kick your butt at charades.” He winked.

“Kick my butt?!” Lance pulled his hand back, affronted. “I was going to let you be on my team, but now you’re going down, mister.”

“Will you two get in here, already?” Veronica was back at the door. “People are starting to ask questions!”

 But before Lance could answer, Shiro called back. “Let them talk!” Then he put a hand on Lance’s lower back, drawing him close, and pressed their lips together again.

Shiro would probably never get tired of kissing Lance. Ever.

“Great,” Lance panted when they pulled apart. “She’s never going to let me hear the end of this, you know.” He pouted.

“Sorry,” Shiro feigned a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t resist.”

“And after I restrained myself,” Lance huffed. “Well, I guess you can make it up to me inside, hmm?”

“You’re right,” Shiro agreed. “I still need to repair that clock of yours.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Lance poked him in the chest. “But…” He bit his lower lip, trailing a finger up Shiro’s chest and crooking it under his chin. “We’ll start with that.” Then he took off, running toward the back door and leaving Shiro blinking dumbly on the sand. And when he finally recovered, he laughed and ran to catch up.

Shiro’s vacation may not have gone according to plan, but he was thankful for every misunderstanding along the way. Because, as he spotted Lance grinning in the doorway, waiting for him, he figured it had turned out to be a very merry mix-up, after all.

 

One year later…

 

Shiro woke up to his phone’s message tone. He grumbled, burrowing under the covers and planning to ignore it – until it went off again. With a sigh, he reached out from his blanket cocoon and pulled his phone off of the nightstand.

_‘Come outside’_

_‘Let’s walk on the beach!’_

They were from Lance. Which was ridiculous, because he was pretty sure Lance was right next to –

But when Shiro turned, the other side of the bed was empty.

He’d only just arrived at the Fernández home the night before and had planned on sleeping in before the rest of Lance’s family showed up. But apparently, his boyfriend had other plans.

With a long-suffering sigh, Shiro replied with an affirmative before getting out of bed to at least put some pants on before walking downstairs. Sure, Lance’s parents knew they were together, but there were still some parts of their relationship that Shiro wanted to keep private.

However, before Shiro walked out of the room, his phone beeped again. He shook his head and unlocked it to read the message.

_‘Bring my jacket?’_

It was unseasonably cool today. Even the wooden floors were chilly. So, once again, Shiro replied that he would and then grabbed Lance’s jacket from the floor. But as he picked it up, something fell out of the pocket.

Shiro furrowed his brow and bent down to see what it was. He blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing things correctly. There, on the floor between his feet, was a small, black velvet box.

He picked it up and, checking to make sure no one else was around, he carefully opened it. And, wow… Inside was a ring. It was a simple white gold band, but it was the most beautiful thing Shiro had ever seen. Still, he couldn’t help but chuckle, because, hidden away in his own suitcase, folded into a pair of socks – just in case – was a ring that matched it perfectly.

Shiro closed the box and put it back into Lance’s jacket pocket. Then he rooted around in his bag until he found his own.

He checked the clock on the nightstand. The very one he’d repaired for Lance. It was nearly eight in the morning. Well, that seemed like the perfect time to ask Lance to marry him.

Oh, was his boyfriend ever going to be mad that he’d beaten him to punch.

But, as he walked down the stairs, a smile on his face, Shiro figured he’d find a way to make it up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww~♥
> 
> As always, let me know what you think and feel free to hit me up on my Voltron sideblog [@bleucheesy](http://bleucheesy.tumblr.com)!


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